


In the End

by Asterisked



Category: OFF (Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-25
Updated: 2013-05-25
Packaged: 2017-12-12 23:09:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/817150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asterisked/pseuds/Asterisked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Batter completes his task, he pulls the switch--but Zacharie has something he needs to do before all ends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the End

With a final yowl, the Judge lay motionless before him. The Batter chest heaved with the strain of the battle, his arms shaking from exertion, fingers clenched painfully on the handle of his bloodied bat.

Releasing a heavy exhale, he stood up straight and tipped his head back. Above him, white loomed.

White. All would be white. Nothing more would exist in this realm, not even himself, and the Batter was plenty tired of existing. It was worth it, the deaths of the Judge, of the Guardians, of his wife and of Hugo, the deranged being who had made this polluted world. It was even worth the deaths of the innocent Elsens and of Zacharie. The cause was good. The cause was _everything_.

And so all that was left was to pull the switch.

The Batter rolled his head and looked at it, affixed to the wall, stark silver and grey against pallid white. It beckoned. He dropped the bat, the metal causing a hollow trill to ring in the small room, and it sounded so final. The weapon would perform no more.

One step, two, three, four, and he was there. The Batter stared down at the handle of the switch, clear denotations of “ON” and “OFF” at either pole of the base. It was almost irritatingly simple, for the effort it took to get to it.

He reached forward with his right hand and bloodstained fingers grasped the handle.

He waited. He would not be able to pull the handle down until the puppeteer commanded it to be so.  The Batter had been glad the one guiding him had been so steadfast in aiding him, never questioning his intentions until the end. There had been only one sticky moment, and that had been before the Batter had slaughtered the Judge. He waited for his command from above, but it had taken excruciatingly long to reach him, as though the puppeteer was hesitating. The Judge had sat and stared at him sadly, yellow eyes peering through the Batter to the being beyond, it had seemed. But in the end, the puppeteer chose correctly, and here the Batter stood.

They would choose the right option again.

And they did.

The Batter took a breath, and pulled the switch down.

Darkness.

Pure black around him, eternal night at all turns.

But…but he still existed. Although he couldn’t see, the Batter certainly felt himself, knew himself to exist. A drag of his hand down his body confirmed a corporal being. His mind was still there. Bitten lips and stinging cuts and bruises along his skin betrayed sensation and pain.

What was going on? Shouldn’t he…no longer exist?

Had…something gone wrong?

He cast his mind out, towards the puppeteer, and gasped. There was no one. His mind was completely his, with no guiding force to direct him. The Add-Ons had vanished as well.

He was alone.

“You will find that your puppeteer has abandoned you. Upon directing you to pull that final switch, I can only assume they realized the extent of their actions and have fled from your influence. To them, all is black.”

The Batter swallowed, reaching up and pulling the brim of his hat further down on his head in uneasiness. “…Zacharie?”

A sad chuckle in the darkness. “Indeed, my friend. I am afraid to say your work is not quite done.”

The Batter heard a clap, and the world was illuminated again.

The Batter raised an arm to shield his eyes from the sudden, intense light. When he had adjusted a little, he lowered his arm and felt his stomach plummet to his feet.

He was in a room. A corporal, four walled room. All his work had been for nothing if such a place still existed. The walls were the colour of blood, and in the middle of the somewhat spacious room stood Zacharie.

His eerie-eyed mask stood as colourless as always against the dark skin of his jaw and neck and the inky black of his hair. His hands were resting casually in his pants pockets. His demeanor was nothing but easiness, as it always was, but there was something wrong with it. Something was off.

The Batter cast his gaze about the room, granting further inspection past the man in the middle, and noticed that there was absolutely nothing. There were no floating blocks, no rivers of plastic, no pathways, not even seams in the floor to indicated direction. It was a solid red room, and the combination of the inescapability of his situation and the confusing man before him made the Batter feel something he had not felt often—fear.

“What’s going on?” He finally said, his words lacking their usual confidence. They slid from his mouth in a near whisper.

Zacharie shuffled slightly, adjusting his weight from one foot to the other. His gaze was directed to the floor. “I wish to ask you something.”

The Batter frowned, ignoring the gooseflesh erupting on his arms and the back of his neck. “Okay.”

“Why did you spare me?”

A shiver rolled down the Batter’s spine, but he gave a truthful answer. “You would have been eradicated in the end, whether or not I had seen to it personally. At least,” He paused, the red of the room looming in on him, choking his words, “that had been the intent. You were convenient to me, and from what I saw, not as corrupted as those around you.”

Zacharie was silent for an impossibly long moment. The Batter felt the full force of the silence on his body, as though the weight of his words was a physical manifestation of gravity, and his knees quaked. He did not feel guilty, he felt absolutely no remorse in his words or his actions, and yet his stomach clenched uneasily. Eventually, Zacharie raised one of his hands and scratched at his hair, releasing a muted laugh.

“Hmm, I thought as much! Still, I suppose it doesn’t really matter in the long run, this will all still disappear once we’ve finished, and neither of us will be around to wish for more pleasant of outcomes.”

The Batter heard a bitterness in his words. “’Once we’ve finished’?”

Zacharie nodded, lowering his hand and grasping his chin under the mask. “You see, this place is something of my own creation. As you might have noticed during your quest, I possess a certain amount of spatial control—how else would my character be able to travel to places you were going, before you got there?”

The Batter nodded, his eyes never leaving the merchant before him. Something akin to dread was building up in his body.

“That being the case, I have some ability to exert my will into this construct of reality…and so I made this saferoom. For a time after you pulled the switch to end it all.”

“But…why?” The Batter asked, his tired hand gripping his other sleeve.

Zacharie began to move forward. Each step was slow and quiet, predatory, and the Batter’s breath hitched in his throat. The unfamiliar twist of fear resurfaced in his stomach and he stepped back, but Zacharie continued to advance, hands by his side, rough fingers disturbingly at ease.

“I have helped you during your travels, my friend, and now it is time you return the favour.”

What? “I gave you your credits, Zacharie, I _paid_ for all that I asked of you.”

The man laughed. “You did indeed. However, credits, as delectable as they are, are game constructs that have absolutely no meaning outside of the game. You and I are no longer in a situation where money is a motivating factor.”

“Then,” the Batter said, continuing to move back as the masked man advanced, “what could I possibly give you? I have nothing but the knowledge of what had to be done and the clothes that cover me.”

“True. But what I wish for is the third item you possess—your flesh.”

The Batter stopped. “What?”

Zacharie didn’t stop. He continued forward, stalking. “I wish for the comfort of your flesh. Your task will not be complete until I get it. This room will remain until you give me your body.”

“To what, possess me? What good will that do?”

Zacharie chuckled, he was only a foot or two away now. “I don’t want to _possess_ you, dear Batter, but rather, I wish to _claim_ you.”

“I—“

“Surely you have participated in this sort of thing before?” Zacharie asked, finally stopping short of the Batter about a foot away.

“I, yes, but I didn’t think—“

“That it would come down to this?” Zacharie mused, his voice low and deep. He reached forward and laid his hand over the Batter’s heart, beating strongly in his chest.

“Zacharie…what if I refuse?”

The hand resting on his chest clenched. “Hmm, it’s an odd situation, I must admit. You no longer have the guiding hands of the puppeteer to move you…as such, that slot is now open for control.”

He leaned forward, masked face getting close to the Batter’s shadowed one, close enough that all the Batter could see was black and white. Zacharie’s words were a sly whisper. “ _I_ will take control.”

A hand was suddenly pressing against the Batter’s back. The Batter shivered. His hands shook by his sides—how could his ending have gone so astray? He had _made_ it; he had conquered this corrupt realm, had pulled the switch! All was _his_ , all was _eradicated_ —what right did Zacharie have to take that from him? Zacharie, the masked merchant, unimportant, with no power—

“Put your arms around me.”

Zacharie’s voice shook through him, ringing with authority, and the Batter found himself raising his arms and encircling the man’s torso, placing his tainted hands on Zacharie’s back. The words moved the Batter exactly as his puppeteer’s had. The Batter pressed the man to him, fingers gripping the fabric of the merchant’s shirt, and Zacharie let out his infuriating laugh, the sound throatier than before.

“Yes, good. I can feel you shaking, dear Batter. Do not worry—this will not be without satisfaction for you as well, I guarantee it.”

Sudden rage filled the Batter’s frame. _NO,_ this is _not_ how this will go. He may command you, but you will not be a victim of his commands.  This man who _tainted_ your ending.  

With a snarl the Batter raised his hands and dug them into Zacharie’s thick hair, pulling his head back. Zacharie let out a surprised gasp and gripped the Batter’s hips between his hands as the Batter descended upon his exposed neck, lips and teeth marking attacking his skin. The Batter could feel the merchant’s pulse fluttering under his mouth as he sucked, could feel the man’s startled intakes of breath just past fragile skin. Zacharie’s fingers slid along the Batter’s pantline and then ran up his back, rough fingers tugging the fabric as they went.

The Batter’s hands shifted against the tied string of Zacharie’s mask and they paused there, fingering the knot, pulse racing against the Batter’s lips.

“Do it,” Zacharie hissed.

The Batter pulled the knot loose, and without moving his mouth from the merchant’s neck, tugged the mask from the man’s face. It clattered to the ground.

Zacharie’s gasps met the naked air as the Batter worked his way up to his exposed jawline.  The Batter slid his hands down Zacharie’s back to the bottom of his loose shirt, then pulled his mouth from Zacharie’s jaw to peel the shirt over his head.

The Batter threw it to the floor and stepped back from the warm skin before him. He looked at Zacharie’s face.

“Hmm, curiosity after all, dear Batter?”

Gritting his teeth against the heat that built inside him steadily, the Batter stepped forward once more and grabbed Zacharie’s face between his hands. His lips met dark, laughing ones, and the Batter swallowed the chuckle into his mouth. Zacharie arched against him, skin taut against bloodied clothing, his hands pulling the Batter’s cap from his head and stroking down his bruised face. The Batter hissed as Zacharie’s fingers pushed against broken skin and his grip on the merchant’s hair tightened briefly before moving his hands to Zacharie’s sides, feeling the hot skin under his fingers, the ribs and abdominal muscles just barely protected from him. The Batter felt out of breath and sickeningly warm as Zacharie’s tongue swept along his lower lip, the sensitive skin aching. He pulled Zacharie’s tongue into his mouth and a pleased noise escaped him at sensation, the strangely bitter flavour. Zacharie hummed at the Batter’s response and his tongue slid along the Batter’s with increased skill, making the Batter’s legs unsteady, the fear in his stomach long since dissolved into something much stronger, much more _vivid_.  Zacharie withdrew, pulling his lips away to press his forehead against the Batter’s.

“Your clothes are something I’m beginning to hate the feeling of. Take them off.”

The Batter’s fingers immediately left Zacharie’s bruising skin and set to work, unbuckling the belt slung around his hips and tossing it away. Zacharie moved back to watch him, eyes dark and full of want, of power. The Batter pulled his shirt and undershirt over his head in one movement, toed off his shoes, unbuttoned his pants and let them fall before stepping out of them. His underclothing was gone shortly, and then he stood naked and broken in front of Zacharie. The air felt warm and somehow frozen at the same time, the heated and _aroused_ nature of his skin uncomfortable in the open.

Without the mask to cover his expression, the Batter shuddered at the exposed mixture of desire amusement in Zacharie’s eyes. His chuckle was shot with dark intent.

“This was most certainly worth the trouble.” He mused, and the Batter _hated_ him, hated the red patches on his neck and jaw left from the Batter’s mouth, hated the upturned cast of his lips, hated that even though the man could control his actions the Batter wanted to continue anyway.

“You will give me my ending.” The Batter growled, stepping forward and then sliding onto his knees before Zacharie, hands reaching behind the man to cup and squeeze the supple flesh that resided in the back of Zacharie’s pants. The merchant hummed deeply and ran his hands through the Batter’s hair, stroking along the back of his head and teasing the skin of his neck. “Of course.”

Skin prickling, hands shaking, the Batter shifted his hands towards the front of Zacharie’s pants. The clasp was straining to stay closed from the protrusion of the man’s erection, and the Batter ran his fingers along it lightly, feeling the solid length under the dark fabric, and Zacharie let out a stuttering breath above him. The Batter could see the skin of his stomach quivering as he slowly tugged down the fabric on his hips, freeing him from the constraint of his pants. The Batter let the fabric pool to the floor before bring his face forward and nudging Zacharie’s cock with his nose, breathing heavily against the heated skin of it, fingers brushing against the dark hair at the base.

“Put your mouth to me,” Zacharie gasped, and the Batter did so with a groan, opening his mouth and wetly kissing the head before running his tongue down the length of him. Zacharie cried out, hands gripping the Batter’s short hair tightly, and the Batter groaned involuntarily, kissing down the side of Zacharie’s cock, tasting the skin, the salt and bitter sharp of it. One hand reached back to grasp a tight cheek in his hand as the other encircled the base of Zacharie’s cock before the Batter took the length into his mouth, until the tip brushed the roof of his mouth and he closed his lips and _sucked._ Zacharie’s choked moan echoed in the blood room and the Batter drank it in, sucked _harder_ to draw more out of him, pulled him in further until the head rested at his throat and he _swallowed_ around him, Zacharie crying out his name, his voice deep with lust, hands fluttering and gripping the Batter’s hair in intervals before suddenly pushing at the Batter’s shoulders.  

“Stop!”

Zacharie’s command rippled through the Batter and he pulled off, licking his lips and staring up at Zacharie’s flushed face, at the wet lips curling up into a smile, and the Batter stood swiftly and kissed him again, diving into Zacharie’s mouth and pressing himself to the man, his own aching cock brushing against Zacharie’s slick one, and he moaned into his mouth. Zacharie’s legs seemed to give way, and they were on the floor, Zacharie on top of him,  the Batter’s hands cupping his ass and dragging his hips against his own, the wet slide of their cocks making them groan and gasp into each other’s mouths, and once more Zacharie pushed against the Batter’s shoulders—

“Stop!”

The Batter’s grip on him eased up somewhat, allowing Zacharie to shift so that he was straddling the Batter’s hips, playful smile on his face.

“I would prefer to last long enough to be inside you, my friend. Such actions…” He trailed off, running a hand down the Batter’s damp chest, fingers dancing along the hair running down to his cock before pausing at the base of it, “make that very difficult, I’m afraid.”

The Batter’s lack of breath made it difficult to talk. “What a shame.” He had intended it to be standoffish, indifferent, but instead it only came out throaty and longing. Zacharie’s eyelids lowered in understanding.

Tilting his head, he seemed to consider something before sliding off the Batter entirely. “I can’t see any other way to make this last longer, as much as I would love to keep existing, especially in this state of pleasure. Turn around, now.” His words were tight.

The Batter flipped over and raised himself to his hands and knees, aware of what was next. His pulse throbbed in his ears, and his cock dripped eagerly onto the floor. He wanted to feel shame, to feel  disgust, and he did—but he also felt the drive to continue, and the mocking hope of his eventual completion beckoned to him from the distant future, from the end of this ceremony. He was almost there.

Zacharie came up behind him and leaned over his back, placing his feverish skin back to the Batter’s as he slid a hand between them. His blunt fingers found the Batter’s entrance and pushed against it—the Batter gritting his teeth at the pain, and at the pleasure of the pain.

“Ah, you make me wish I had advanced upon you sooner.” Zacharie panted against the skin of his back, and the Batter shivered under him.

“I would have..ahh, I would have rejected you…”

“With the way you respond, I am not so sure.” Zacharie’s fingers twisted slightly, there were two at once, it was too much but not enough, and they pushed against something inside him and the Batter was shouting out, _too much—_

“ _Zacharie—_ “

“Do not release yet.”

The Batter swore and jerked under him, the words stopping his own completion, and his hands clenched into fists. “You—“

“Aha, so sorry, but for me the greatest pleasure would be for you to finish alongside me.”

As a third finger pushed into him, not gently, the Batter teeth dug into his own lip to taste blood. The calloused fingers worked into him, twisting, turning, and pleasure washed over his skin in corresponding tides. He wanted to finish. He _needed it to be done._

“Here is the climax to our narrative.” Zacharie pulled his fingers from inside, leaving the Batter feeling strangely empty and cold. Soon enough, though, there was something warm and thick pushing against him, and the Batter arched his back, _yes_ , this was what he needed, Zacharie let out a strangled, satisfied groan as he pushed forward, burying himself into the Batter, his hands stroking up the Batter’s sides until he wrapped them around his torso and pulled the Batter to his chest, fingers lightly tweaking his nipples as Zacharie finished sliding in, breath hot against the Batter’s neck.

“Ahh, this…is not the best position to thrust, I admit.” Zacharie mouthed against his shaking skin, “but give me a moment to relish this.”

The Batter breathed, in and out, as Zacharie’s hands mapped his chest, taking him in. He felt something, something in the way Zacharie touched him—it was sadness, finality, and the Batter wished the act would end, so that his resolution for all things to vanish would stop wavering under Zacharie’s attentions, and there was _no point_ in changing his mind, he had already killed them all.

“I’m going to bend you forward again, on your hands and knees.”

The Batter did what he was told, and Zacharie’s hands found his hips. He pulled back, and _thrust_ in, the Batter restraining the scream that wanted to escape him. Zacharie did not hold back his throated moan as he repeated the motion, his cock brushing against that place of the Batter’s once more, and he could not stop himself from joining Zacharie in a breathless cry. Zacharie thrust in and out, hands tight on the Batter’s hips, pleasure ripping out both of their throats in heady moans, and the Batter began to move his hips _with_ Zacharie, meeting him thrust for thrust, and Zacharie laughed, loud and clear, before pushing in one last time and releasing himself, the Batter’s own release timed with his, and together the two rode out their finish, bloodied, sweating, tired.

Zacharie pulled away. The Batter huffed a few breaths before getting to his feet shakily. He looked at the merchant, who had walked over to his clothing. He watched as the man reached down and grasped his mask, giving the Batter one last dark look before placing the disguise over his face and tying the strings around his dishevelled hair. He breathed, naked chest moving up and down, then pointedly looked over to the Batter’s discarded clothing.

Taking a breath, the Batter moved forward until he found his cap. He bent down, picked it up, dusted it off slightly, then placed it on his head. He pulled the brim down.

“Goodbye, my friend.”

A pause as the walls wavered and began to dissolve.

“….Goodbye.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! :D I listened to this practically on repeat as I wrote: http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=Cz80TL6aJ-A The Off OST is so great ;A;  
> I might follow this up with a drawing...I draw too, did you know? *shamelessly promotes tumblrs*:  
> vasheren.tumblr.com--> my usual  
> asteriskd.tumblr.com--> my porn drawings/porn writings blog


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